


Solstice

by ennyousai



Category: Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennyousai/pseuds/ennyousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief moment between two priestesses of Avalon just before the Winter Solstice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solstice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oparu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/gifts).



The day before the Winter Solstice, Morgaine rose even earlier than was usual for the sworn priestesses of Avalon. She lay still on her cot, listening to the sounds around her and aware of the blood thrumming through her veins. Her body told her dawn was still far off, and these hours would be hers alone.

She dressed silently, drawing her blue cloak tight around her as she slipped out of the dormitory and into the chilly winter air. She shivered for just a moment before putting her discomfort out of mind, reminding herself that a priestess was not ruled by hunger, thirst, or cold. She took another breath, and this time she could almost enjoy the sensation of the cold wind brushing against her face. Its touch was bracing, giving her thoughts sharp clarity.

This would be her first Solstice on Avalon since she was made a full priestess. Strange, that the thought made her long for the winters of her childhood, when she had sat before the fire in Tintagal’s great hall and listened to her mother tell the old stories about the turning of the seasons. She missed the smell of hot wine and meat pies, her mother’s voice singing in her ear and her father’s booming laughter. There was no _need_ to miss such childish things. She was a priestess now, an initiate of the Mysteries of the Goddess, and beyond such simple desires.

And yet there was still that small part of her that missed the security of childhood, now that it was lost to her forever.

Morgaine glanced back at the Tor, a darker blur set against the backdrop of night, then set out along the path that led toward the lake. She would walk for a while, to settle her thoughts. Tomorrow was one of the great festivals, the first one she would participate in since the crescent had been set upon her brow, and she would not disappoint the Lady. She knew what was expected from her as one who was descended from the Great Royal Line of Avalon. She would not fail.

The Sight came upon her unbidden then, just for an instant, enough to send a shiver of unease down her spine ( _I am a full Priestess now; I am the one who controls the gates to the Sight_ ). She saw herself years in the future, dressed not in dark robes of Avalon but the rich robes of a Queen, sitting in the Great Hall of a stone castle. She frowned, troubled - _surely I will never leave Avalon; this is my home, my true home_ \- but then the unwanted vision was gone and she once again standing at the shore of the frozen lake with the wind running through her hair.

She did not realize the Lady had joined her in her silent vigil until she spoke.

“I’ve always found it difficult to sleep the night before the Solstice.” Viviane’s voice was pitched low, just loud enough that it reached Morgaine’s ears. “Perhaps because I enjoyed it so much as a child living in my foster parents’ home, and have never quite left behind my anticipation for a day of feasting and hot mulled wine.”

Morgaine turned to the Lady and bowed in respect, but Viviane rested her hands on her shoulders and urged her to lift her head.

“I am speaking to my kinswoman.”

Morgaine smiled a bit at that. Here on Avalon she was just one of the junior priestesses, as it should be, but on the rare occasions when she and Viviane came together as aunt and niece something warm and pleasant unfurled in her bosom.

“I’ve been here for years now,” said Morgaine with a rueful laugh. “And I’ve never missed Cornwall before. It’s foolish.”

“It is not foolish to remember one’s childhood with fondness.” Viviane touched Morgaine’s arm and guided her back on the path toward the small cluster of dwellings where the priestesses lived. “Come, Morgaine. We still have some time before we greet the sunrise.”

“I should not disturb your rest -”

“As I grow older, I find that I require less sleep.” Viviane’s voice’s was amused. “And perhaps I, too, retain a child’s excitement for the Solstice festivities. So let us be sleepless together.”

A small charcoal brazier made the High Priestess’ dwelling warm and snug, and Morgaine let herself enjoy the wash of heat against her cheeks. Viviane pressed a cup of water warmed with honey and mint into her hands, and Morgaine sipped at it slowly, savoring the treat as she watched Viviane pour a cup for herself.

 _The Lady is my mother_ , thought Morgaine with a surge of tenderness. _Far more than Igraine ever was, except for when I was a small child before Uther and Arthur came to steal her away from me_. Morgaine’s lips twisted in a frown at the very thought of the Pendragon. She had never loved him, and as a child at court she had clung to the belief that if Gorlois were still alive the three of them would surely have lived as a happy, contented family. She knew now that was nothing but a fantasy, and her father had always wished she were the son he craved. But that was all in the past, and now she was here on Avalon, with her true family.

“Sit with me awhile, Morgaine,” said Viviane. “Like you used to, when you were a girl and I came to visit your mother at court. We are kinswomen twice over, both by blood and in the Sisterhood of the Goddess, and I would have your company.”

They had never needed words between them. The simply sat together in the warm silence of Viviane’s home, the air pungent with the scent of the dried herbs the Lady hung from the rafters, and listened to the sound of the wind outside. The Earth moved slowly on its axis, the seasons turned, and the Mists of Avalon gathered slowly over the lake in anticipation of dawn.

The eastern sky had turned a dull grey when Viviane set her cup aside and graced Morgaine with a smile. “The day begins, and there’s work to be done. We feast tonight, my child, and need to make sure all is ready.”

“Of course.” Morgaine rose to her feet, inclined her head to the Lady of the Lake. Before she turned to go, however, Viviane rose and pressed a kiss to her brow, gentle as a mother.

“Happy Solstice,” murmured Viviane softly, then turned away in dismissal.

Morgaine smiled, then stepped out into the brisk early morning air.


End file.
